


Confined to Quarters

by alba17



Series: Marvel Shipping Games Ficlets [6]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Friendship, Gen, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-26
Updated: 2014-09-26
Packaged: 2018-02-18 21:09:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2362247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alba17/pseuds/alba17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky and Tony form a tentative friendship when Tony repairs his arm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Confined to Quarters

**Author's Note:**

> For marvelshippinggames' Bonus Round 2, prompt, bitter (which I kind of got away from).

"What do you mean, it doesn't work?" Bucky glares at Tony, not believing what he’s hearing. 

"Well, here's the thing. There's some weird ass technology here. Old Soviet stuff that doesn't quite mesh with our current standards. Now that some of the parts have worn out, I've got to replace them. And it's going to take some time. So in the meantime, you've got to...how can I put this...make do."

"Make do? That's my fucking left arm. I don't have another one."

Tony runs a hand through his hair. "I know. I'll do it as quickly as I can, I promise."

While he waits, Bucky’s confined to quarters at Stark Tower. There’s nothing else to do. It’s so frustrating.

"How you doing, old buddy?" Tony flops down on the sofa next to Bucky a couple days later. "Getting in some of those parts tomorrow, just wanted to let you know."

Bucky still hasn't quite gotten the hang of small talk. From what Steve tells him, he used to be really good at it. He stares at Tony, not quite knowing what he's supposed to say. "Okay," is all he manages. Then, in some fit of logic, he says, "I'm not your old buddy."

"Okay, maybe you're not my buddy, you're Capsicle's, but technically, you _are_ old. You gotta admit that."

Bucky ponders that. "Yes. I am."

"Glad we're on the same page with that."

"What else you got?" Tony waits.

Bucky looks at him. 

“Nothing?" Tony says.

Bucky’s distracted. His arm is there, he can feel it but he can't see it. When he moves, he's off kilter, he’s unbalanced, he can't move right. So, he’d rather stay right here on the couch, watching endless episodes of Big Bang Theory, a show which makes very little sense to him, but he finds amusing. He turns away from Tony back to the TV. It's huge, takes up lots of space on the wall. 

Tony sighs and jumps up like the fortyish puppy he is. "Not exactly a talkative one, are you?"

Bucky has to admit he's right. 

 

Steve's away on a mission and Bucky's getting bored. He wanders down to Tony's workshop, navigating the complexities of Stark Tower with, to him, impressive ease. 

He pushes open the door and Tony looks up at him, throws him a wave, but otherwise ignoring him. Bucky hovers, watching as Tony works on his arm. He uses one tool, then another, selecting them from a mind-boggling array. Bucky can't even imagine what most of them are for. 

"What are you doing now?"

Tony explains it to him and they get into a detailed discussion of the ins and outs of Bucky's arm. Bucky never really understood how it worked. HYDRA put him under, gave him orders and he did what he was supposed to do. He didn't really have the opportunity to think about anything and no one ever explained the technology behind the thing. Not worth explaining anything to a machine.

He hates that it's a part of him now, something he can't do without. Yet no matter how much he resents HYDRA for what they did to him, there's a small part of him that's grateful for being able to come back and see Steve again, live to create another life not marred with the horrors of the Winter Soldier.

"Thanks for explaining it to me," he manages to say to Tony. 

Tony looks at him for a moment. "No problem. You'll have it back soon, good as new. Probably better. Made some tweeks."

Bucky manages a small grin. 

 

Over the next couple of weeks, Bucky visits the workshop regularly. Tony seems to enjoy it. Neither of them says that much. Once in awhile, Tony will point something out, or Bucky will ask a question, but generally they keep quiet. Bucky pokes around - there's a lot of interesting stuff in Tony's workshop - Tony putters. It's oddly amicable.

 

The arm is finally ready. Tony tells Bucky to put aside the entire day - not that he has anything else to do - and promises he'll be a happy camper. Bucky's not sure what camping has to do with it, but it sounds good, whatever it is. He's learned to ignore half of what Tony says.

It takes hours of poking and prodding, trying one thing and then another, before the arm seems to be fully attached and functioning. The fact that this thing is an integral part of Bucky's existence horrifies him still. 

"Thank you," he says to Tony. He needs the thing to work, regardless of where it came from.

Tony meets his gaze and holds it for a lengthy moment. "You're welcome. If it gives you any more problems, you know where to find me." He fiddles with one of the controls and strokes the arm. Bucky doesn't take it personally. He understands getting attached to things you've worked on.

"You're an interesting man," he ventures.

"Oh, the robot speaks." 

"Are you always like this?"

"Pretty much. Ask Pepper."

Bucky snorts. "You're funny, Tony Stark. So was your pop."

"Was he?" Tony searches Bucky's face. "You know, it's very strange that you and Steve knew my dad."

"Yep, we did. You’re so much like him, it's unbelievable."

"Some time we should talk about that. You know, when you're, well, less....robot-like."

"Asshole."

"Oh ho, there ya go." Tony hits his non-metal arm. "You got some life in you yet."

Bucky feels like rolling his eyes but he isn't sure if that's the right response. He defaults to staring at Tony. He isn't even sure where that response came from. It’s instinctual, and Jesus Christ, if that isn't a relief. 

"Yeah." He flexes the metal arm, hearing it pop and wheeze. "So tell me about some of these improvements."


End file.
